Hello everyone! I just thought you should know that thanks to your overwhelmingly positive acceptance of this story, it's in the process of being fleshed out, and re-edited (this was supposed to be the second to last chapter.)

I just wanted to say thank you, and let you all know that each and every one of you, wether you review or not, had a part in inspiring this story from here on out.

Kyoya didn't know if he could bear going back to the office. Usually working helped take his mind off whatever was causing him stress, It was calming, organized, reliable. Everything the real world wasn't. It was the only place he was completely in control.

But in his office was a professionally made spread of their wedding photos, not to mention all the other framed pictures of Haruhi, or the two of them together. Kyoya breathed deeply, trying to calm down. It would do no good for him to go in there angry. He dialed his secretary's number, and asked her to remove all photos from his office, hanging up before she was able to ask for any explanation. No one needed to know that he was separating from his wife until it was official, something that was already taking too long to complete.

Besides, Haruhi didn't need the to be maligned by the press, who already thought she was a gold digger.

That had been a point of major contention in their relationship. Haruhi had cancelled her paper delivery during their first month of dating, and by the fifth, she made it a point to avoid any sort of store, shop or stand that sold tabloids. That didn't stop the sleezeball reporters from following her, or showing up at her house during all hours of the day.

They had powered through that, so what made this different?

The unbidden thought of her just made his mood worse, though, by now he could care less. He arrived at the office building, a tall, though not entirely unique building covered entirely in black granite, and tinted glass.

"Good afternoon Sir." His secretary, Rina, greeted. She was the only one accustomed to Kyoya's moods, and she handled him accordingly, having worked with him since he was in high school.

"Afternoon." He returned curtly, He slammed the door to his office open, the bare walls giving him some measure of relief, while managing to twist the knife, proverbially speaking, by reminding him of what had been there. That seemed to be the phrase that described his life, everything had been there, but nothing remained. The door closed behind him on it's own accord, and he was alone again.

"You're doing what?" Suoh Tamaki cried out. For once, his reaction was not over dramatic. Kyoya didn't even know how he got to his old classmates house in the first place, or how many days he'd been there. It was only when Tamaki had asked about Haruhi that he seemed to come to consciousness, spilling the entire dramatic anecdote.

"I have to leave her, Tamaki." Kyoya slurred. Wether it was from exhaustion or the alcohol they had consumed, (socially, of course, Kyoya never considered himself a drinker.) he wouldn't know.

Tamaki, on the other hand was livid. If he sat down and thought about it, the fact that it was Kyoya's marriage falling apart didn't surprise him as much as the fact that it was Haruhi's fault. The girl he knew in high school wouldn't, in her wildest dreams, cheat on anyone she was in a relationship with, no matter how unhappy she was. And he'd talked to her fairly recently, she wasn't unhappy.

"Did she say she was seeing someone else?"Tamaki asked, for once the more logical half of the duo. Kyoya shook his head.

"She didn't have too, Tamaki, she came home wearing his shirt." Tamaki felt like he was looking at a stranger. This man, drunk, and two steps away from actually crying was such a far cry from the cool and collected vice president he knew in high school, and even farther from the steely, calculating, manipulative head of the Ootori corporation. In short, his best friend was an utterly devastated mess. This didn't sit well with Tamaki, real, emotional waste never did.

"Kyoya. Look at me." Tamaki was reluctantly met with bloodshot grey eyes. "You're going to go upstairs, shower, shave, and then I'm taking you home. You will talk this out with Haruhi, then, only in that moment, will you make this insane, irrational decision. Not before." Tamaki rose from the table, expecting Kyoya to follow suit. Instead, there was a thud, and the sound of a dropped glass. Tamaki looked over to see his friend passed out, face down on the table. He shook his head, weather the exhaustion had anything to do with it or not, Kyoya never could hold his liquor.

Haruhi went to class the next morning, tired, and feeling sicker then normal, the secret she hadn't told anyone, and the events of the past few days had left her stomach feeling like it was lined with lead. She had a hard time making it through the halls, and an even harder time making it through class. She was completely unable to focus on the issues being presented to her, because every little thing reminded her of Kyoya.

The shade of the girls hair in front of her, the color of the professor's tie, her lab partner's glasses.

All of it reminded her that Kyoya hadn't been home in over a week, and she was starting to think he had really left her.

She had overheard two of the laundresses gossiping about the whole thing, and it didn't take much for her to realize that Kyoya must have heard the same rumors.

The rumor that she was sleeping with a tasteless American movie star. Haruhi rolled her eyes, it was ridiculous. The idea was so beyond absurd, it almost beat out the time Tamaki and Kyoya convinced the entire Host Club to pretend to be girls.

It also didn't take much to realize the 'American movie star' was Kaoru. It was an honest mistake, and she knew Kyoya would understand if he let her explain.

But his phone had been off for the past five days, and he hadn't been into work since the weekend.

Haruhi had called the Ootori family police force, but they refused to do anything, saying they had heard from Kyoya himself, and they were given instructions not to alert her to his whereabouts. The knowlege that he was safe didn't make Haruhi feel any better though.

The day passed slowly, the minutes feeling like hours, so Haruhi was surprised when class let out, and she was able to go home.

She almost couldn't make herself get out of the car. The idea of coming home to an empty house was just that depressing.

'You can do it.' It wasn't even a half hearted cheer, she was outright lying to herself. But her feet moved, she didn't want to stay in the garage any longer. She hefted herself out of the car, the driver had learned long ago that Haruhi never accepted help.

She shuffled through the house, to the second floor library. That was where she set up camp lately. The narrowly placed stacks of books were less empty then the rest of the house, and the overstuffed leather chairs that sat, interspersed, throughout the room were more comfortable to sleep in then the huge, desolate bed in their cavernous bedroom. She hated the bedroom.

Now her days were filled with studying, nothing else. Phone calls had gone ignored, e-mails and texts un-answered, it was only at the insistence of the staff that she actually managed to eat and take car of herself.

Law was cold, emotionless. Law had no connection to her failure of a marriage, had no connection to her failure as a wife.

She'd read in in one of the armchairs until long after the sun had gone down, routinely falling asleep with the book in her hand.

Ootori Haruhi didn't know how else to cope.

With all that being said, I have a question to ask you, dear reader.

How do you flesh out chapters in your own stories? I read these stories that have multi-page long chapters in awe, and I was wondering, if you write like that, how do you do it? What do you focus on?

Let me know please, it would be very helpful.

XOXO

Belle